


Marinette (Marinette!)

by majjale



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Commissioned Work, F/M, Identity Reveal, accidental reveal, one-sided ladybug reveal, plagg gets to talk some sense into adrien because... i love that?, some nice emotional turmoil for adrien
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majjale/pseuds/majjale
Summary: But he hadn’t done those things, or anything at all, really, except stare slack-jawed through the glass as Marinette (Marinette!) glittered and glowed and swung through a window.or, how bad luck finally caught up to Chat Noir.





	1. cats can't catch a break

**Author's Note:**

> a commission for hiddenaurora on tumblr! thank you from the bottom of my heart, it was a lot of fun! also, enjoy the extra word count here... i'm not a concise writer in any way shape or form.

When he played it over in his mind (in a constant, agonizingly stressful loop), it seemed clear to Adrien that the blame laid squarely in his hands.

If only he’d paid attention to the akuma instead. If only he’d tried a different door. If only he’d thought to duck into the bathrooms just three feet away. If only, if only, if only. But he hadn’t done those things, or anything at all, really, except stare slack-jawed through the glass as Marinette (Marinette!) glittered and glowed and swung through a window.

“Hey!” Plagg zipped up in front of his face and gave him a withering look. “What’s the hold up? If you’re gonna make me go, make it snappy!”

“Buh...” Adrien stared past him, unable to respond through shock.

“What,” Plagg asked, turning to look, “you see a scary monster or something?”

“Ladybug,” Adrien breathed.

“Yes, that’s normal,” Plagg’s eyes narrowed, assessing Adrien’s open mouth. “What about her?”

“She’s Ladybug,” Adrien said, finally focusing on Plagg. “She’s _Ladybug_!”

“I’m not seeing the problem.”

“Mari-- _Marinette_ ,” Adrien whispered, glancing around nervously. “She just transformed! In there! Marinette!”

Plagg’s ears flattened backward. “Oh boy,” he muttered, looking worried, which unnerved Adrien straight to the point of panic. “Ohhh boy.”

Adrien snatched Plagg up. “What, what’s oh boy?”

“Let go’a me!” Plagg peered over Adrien’s shoulder at the courtyard churning with frightened students, flinching as a bright streak of red flew out across the roof. “Why do they always find out in the middle of an attack? We gotta go.” He batted little paws against the thumb encasing him. “Say the words, we gotta go.”

Behind them, the doubly familiar voice called out to the akuma below, and her laugh was an electric shock in Adrien’s bones. He spun, his jaw still hanging loose, to watch her swing through the air, drawing fire away from the people crashing toward the exits. Her name tumbled through his mind: _Marinette, Marinette, Marinette_ , a mantra of exultation barbed with a desperate sort of fear.

Marinette was Ladybug. Ladybug was Marinette. Everything made sense. Nothing made sense.

Plagg bit his finger and he jumped into the door, which slammed open courtesy of a little (more) bad luck. The kwami muscled out of his palm, got right in his face, and grabbed him by the nose.  
“You can help her fight or you can run away, but you have to pick in the next ten seconds,” Plagg growled. “No matter what, after this, you’re gonna give me so much Camembert you’ll need another unnecessarily giant house to put it in.”

A slow smile crept over Adrien’s face, creasing his eyes, which still glinted with panic. Plagg’s tiny grip scrunched tighter. “I’m gonna start counting.”

 _Transform me_ blew out of him like a praying sigh. He sought out every nook and cranny in the green light, seeing over and over the pink that had suffused those walls, those desks. Black armor fitted to his chest as the light faded; the lingering smell of warm sugar tickled his nose, drawing him out into the hallway, where Ladybug (Marinette) was executing a lovely somersault over the railing. He was so distracted by her that he ran right into the railing himself.

“Oof,” was his greeting.

“And where have you been? The fun started several minutes ago.” A teasing smirk pulled up one side of her mouth, which did not help Adrien one bit. He could feel his jaw working in a total disconnect from his body, but no sounds were coming out. Was he even forming words? Marinette’s smirk faded into slight concern. “You okay, Chat?”

“Uh, yeah.” Mari-- La-- Maribug. Ladynette? God, he didn’t know. How was he supposed to address her now? He didn’t want to think about how he’d accidentally call her “my lady” in the middle of class one day and ruin everything. It wasn’t even a question of if he was going to-- he was absolutely going to, because he couldn’t help sticking his foot in his mouth and making a gigantic ass of himself, apparently. Her admonishment from ages ago came back to him in a flash: it wasn’t safe to know each other’s secret identities, they couldn’t know, not now, maybe not ever. This wasn’t what she wanted, and while one part of him was shouting joy from the rooftops, a rapidly growing part of him (situated like a rock in the bottom of his stomach) was beating the elation down with a stick. _She’s going to hate you_ , it screamed. _You’ve betrayed her trust! How could you!_

A sickly purple beam of light struck between them, sending them flying in either direction. Though he’d crashed hard enough to rattle his teeth, Adrien was thanking the akuma for throwing him from having to form a real sentence.

Was it true? Seeing her transform had been an accident, but did that mean he’d betrayed her? If he had, how was he supposed to go about apologizing? To apologize in the first place meant owning up to the blunder. He could do that, sure, no sweat, he could accept when he was in the wrong. But what if she reacted badly, like anyone would when being told their trusted friend and crime-fighting partner had violated the all-important rule? He could offer to reveal himself, and he had before, but she’d given that same response every time. It wouldn’t help anyway. Nothing he could do would take away the stupid mistake. What if she really did start to hate him?

He laid, dazed and dizzy in his own swirling thoughts, in a crumple at the end of the hall. Ladybug was up and swinging, calling to him, asking him to distract the akuma while she summoned her Lucky Charm. It all sounded like static. His chest felt so heavy, his stomach flipping, every inch of his body pleading with him to curl up into a ball and avoid, avoid, avoid. Red and black spots swelled beside him.

“Chat! Are you hurt?” Delicately strong hands fluttered over him, checking for damage. He’d always loved her deceptive strength, so obvious in the way she cupped his cheek and peered into his roving eyes for signs of concussion.

“Seamstress hands,” he mumbled.

“What?”

Actually, he’d prefer a concussion. Maybe he’d forget who she was. But he seemed to be in working order as his ears flicked and he rolled them both to the side. Another purple beam sliced through the vacated air. The akuma howled in frustration.

“Chat, let me up, we need my Lucky Charm,” Marinette hissed. Adrien stared down at her, blinked, then rocketed backward.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed. She sat up, throwing her hands in the air and staring him down with _what gives, man_ nearly palpable between them. A cry tore through the school from below. Marinette immediately tossed her yoyo high, only to catch a large blue playing card lined with gold and reading a large number, backed with the trademark polka dots. She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised, as if he would know what the thing was. He shrugged weakly. With a last worried look, her head swiveled, chasing her instincts.

In the end, he didn’t have to do much. Ladybug jumped up onto the railing and held the card over her head, which calmed the akuma long enough for him to Cataclysm the staff it brandished in two. Marinette clapped her yoyo shut, waved farewell to a snow-white butterfly, and rounded on him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh.” He held up his hands defensively, but she advanced on him. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“If it’s making you so distracted, it’s not nothing,” Ladybug said softly, expression melting into something sad. “You can talk to me.”

Adrien swallowed. “It’s nothing my lady can’t fix with her radiant presence.” He winked and tried for a smile, ending up with a grimace. Marinette frowned.

An urgent beep interrupted her next sentence.

“We’ll talk on patrol,” she said, pointing a finger at him. He nodded tightly, his grimace twitching up in a last-ditch attempt. Clearly not happy with the circumstances, but too constrained by time, Ladybug leapt into the distance. Adrien vaulted to the floor above and ducked back into that classroom, perching on the teacher’s desk, watching the windows warily until green light burst forth and Plagg dropped into his hands. A bell rang. Students filed dutifully back into their rooms, now used to akuma attacks interrupting their days. Adrien stepped out into the hallway and was arrested by two dark pigtails coming up the stairs.

“She’s Ladybug,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Plagg muttered from his pocket. “And you’re Chat Noir.”


	2. dial 1-800-ladybug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“For emergencies. Are you listening?_ Emergencies. _Not cat puns.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this continuation was commissioned by the-littlest-moon on tumblr! i had a lot of fun, thank you!!

_You can talk to me_ , she said. _We'll talk on patrol_ , she said.

Knees curled tight against her chest, Marinette sat atop a roof overlooking the Seine and wondered if she'd ever said anything more ominous.

What phrase was most likely to make people run the opposite direction from a conversation? Why, that classic _we need to talk_! No other set of words had the same punch-in-the-gut power as We Need To Talk, and though she hadn't said exactly that infamous phrase, it was close enough that she could imagine Chat hopping a plane to anywhere but Paris. It’s what she would do.

But, she thought, there was no use beating herself up for inappropriate usage of cliches. Something must’ve hit her partner hard earlier. Wide eyes (she couldn’t decide if it had been fascination or fear shining there) and jumping away from her like she’d electrified him... and he mumbled. Chat Noir, at the very least, was not _quiet_ about what he thought. Maybe a snide comment under his breath that set her laughing once in awhile, but she couldn’t remember a time he’d _mumbled_. Sue her, she was concerned.

And this was on top of what had happened in class.

It could’ve been that the akuma attack had shaken him, but Adrien had been distracted as all hell for the rest of the afternoon. Nino had to nudge him fairly hard to get him to answer questions. Alya tapped the back of his head, asked for his science notes, and he’d flinched-- _flinched_ \-- and banged his knees badly on the table. When the day was finally over, Marinette had smacked into him on the way out, rushing an apology as he stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Confusion overrode her embarrassment and she’d managed to ask, “Are you okay?”

He’d made a weird squeaky noise, gave her a jerky little nod, spun on his heel, and nearly sprinted out of the building.

Yeah. The akuma must’ve shaken him _really_ bad.

Cars dashed to and fro below her. A few people walked by the river-- tourists, by the look of them-- snapping pictures of Paris nightlife. Across the water, lights were flickering in shopfronts, guttering in the shadows of passerby, and music floated up from somewhere behind her. The moon steadily climbed into the sky, lining the dark tiles she sat on in a silver from above, a warm yellow from the streetlamps below. She slowly unfurled her fingers, admiring the color contrast where the light landed on her suit. She turned her hand over and patted the tiles next to her.

“Sit down, Chat.”

He melted out from behind a chimney, moonlight catching his outline. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I’ll be honest, the first couple times I said it, it was to a pigeon.” Marinette’s heart tightened at his restrained cough of a laugh. Whatever it was was still bothering him, clearly, if he didn’t even give her a normal _laugh_.

“Pigeons aside, isn’t this a patrol? Y’know, for crime? Criminals. Criminimity.” One black boot tapped nervously, beating out an apprehensive tune against the rooftop. Marinette turned ever so slightly, the tilt of her shoulders like a raised eyebrow. Chat’s hands shook.

“I thought we’d talk first.” She stretched luxuriously, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the roof, two bright red lines dashed over the façade. “I always feel better after I’ve talked it out. Come tell me what’s wrong.” She patted the tiles again, more insistently this time. Chat ambled back and forth like he couldn’t quite fathom walking, waffling from go to stay, stay to go. He finally dropped into a crouch-- but did so at an unacceptable three feet away from her.

She glanced at his taut arms, elbows held close at his sides, fists pressing down on his thighs, the little bubbly bounce of excess energy on the balls of his feet. Nervous Chat was no good. Frightened Chat was bad. What in the world was this Chat? Not looking her in the eye, not relaxing at the shoulders, not lying out languidly like a particularly satisfied feline. She bit her bottom lip, resolving to watch the skyline until he talked.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“You won’t like it,” he muttered. Her eyes flicked over, but he was still refusing to look at her. Yellow light glinted off the green of his eyes, luminous in the shadows, and Marinette found herself studying them. _Lime isn’t right, they’re too light for moss, I wouldn’t call them emerald because that’s just romance novel nonsense..._

“I wouldn’t like anything that’s bothering you this much.” She cracked a smile in the hopes he’d relax, even a little. He didn’t, and it faded. “Chat. We’re partners. There’s nothing I don’t trust you with.”

He flinched.

Uh oh.

Marinette twisted, eyes narrowing. She leaned in, advancing toward him in one long sweep of red along the roof’s edge, a hand pressing into the tiles as she examined his profile. His eyes darted away, and did-- did his lip tremble?

His lip _did_ tremble. He felt it involuntarily twitch, and Adrien wanted to die. That look in her eye-- that was the glint of _I know_. He’d admired it before, the way she’d coolly stared down akumas as she snapped their accessories apart, but having it directed at him was worse than showing up to a test in his underwear. He felt naked under that gaze. Adrien swallowed against the vise clamped around his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable: some horror-filled shout or a heartbreakingly betrayed way of saying his name. _Adrien_ , she’d say, with the little choke on the end, maybe the hitch of tears in the middle if she was feeling extra awful; _Adrien, how could you_ , and the emphasis on ‘could’ (as all good dramatic actors would do) would snap his will in half and he’d probably cry right there on that roof and--

“Who hurt you?”

His head swiveled so fast his neck cracked. He blinked at her, once, twice. That was... not what he was expecting. “Uh... who... hurt me?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, drawing away from him slightly. “You flinched, and you won’t relax. Did someone hurt you?”

“No, no!” He held up his hands defensively as she squinted at him. “Really! No one hurt me!”

“Chat,” she started, scooting closer to him, “if there’s issues with your homelife, I know we’re not supposed to know who we really are but if I can help somehow--”

“There’s no need to go that far,” Adrien said hastily, his waving hands throwing him off balance enough to sit down hard, legs scrunched up at odd angles. “There’s nothing wrong at home, I mean, not really anything per se, it’s only the usual things, I guess, um.”

“What could seem ‘usual’ may not actually be all that usual, Chat, so really, if there’s something I can help with, I can give you my phone number so you have an out or something? I can probably get friends to swing by anonymously if you need, or whatever works.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble, it’s only...” A shiver ran up Adrien’s spine. He trailed off, processing, then cocked his head at her. “Your phone number?”

“Yeah, if you need someone to come get you.” She looked genuinely concerned, and like offering him her number was the most natural thing in the world between two people who weren’t supposed to know anything about each other according to themselves. “What?”

“You’d give me,” he breathed, one hand coming up to press his temple, “your _phone number_.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” She was starting to get irritated now.

“Do you realize the power you’re giving me right now?” Adrien asked incredulously. She frowned. “I could text you cat puns whenever I wanted. You’re signing up for that right now. That is literally what you are doing.”

“Hang on, that’s not what I said at all,” she cried, sitting back and probably questioning her life choices. “I specifically said if you _need_ to. You know, implying that you NEED to!”

“Cat puns are necessary,” he grinned, “necessary to live a life not entirely devoid of humor.”

The look of absolute doneness was so trademark Marinette that he startled, suddenly remembering why he’d been so nervous to meet for patrol. She folded her arms and huffed, just annoyed enough to put on a show of it but not to really be too miffed. The moon overhead lit the city silver, painting her suit a soft pink, lightening the black spots until they gleamed grey, and bringing out the shine in her dark hair. He watched her blue, blue eyes shift colors; now the pale of noon sky, now the depths of the sea, now a peacock’s feather, now something indescribable, but familiar. Incandescents or moonlight, they shone, and he didn’t quite realize how long they’d been looking back at him.

“You sure no one hit you over the head, or something?” A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You seem a little dazed.”

“I’m fine, Ma--Lady,” he covered the lapse up with a cough. “MaLady. Like, malady. Y’know.”

“I do not know.” She really smiled at him this time. “Are you calling me a malady?”

“Yes. No. No! Final answer.”

“You’re insufferable.” She shook her head, gaze going soft. One hand, the sky turning it pink and grey, gently laid on one of his own. “I am serious about my number though. If you need it.”

Adrien grinned, leaning in and asking in a whisper: “Are you flirting with me?”

“I’m trying to help you, and you’re making it much harder than it has to be.”

“Hard-to-get is my middle name.”

“It is not,” Marinette scoffed. “You’d declare your undying love for anyone who gave you food.”

“A cat’s gotta eat! Despite what the general populace may think, I can’t run on good looks alone, although not for lack of trying.” He posed, drawing a huffy laugh out of her, then deftly turned their overlapped hands so he was holding hers. “You, though,” he brought her hand to his lips, “could power the city on yours.”

“Very sweet of you,” she said with the usual amount of good-natured rejection. But some new timber in his voice stopped her from pulling away. It was softer, deeper-- the most sincere she’d ever heard him. This unwavering attention from those glowing green eyes wasn’t necessarily _new_ , but it felt that way; something had definitely shifted. Maybe whatever was sticking in his side affected him in ways beyond nervousness. He seemed more jovial, almost back to normal, and then this... honesty? She blinked rapidly, trying to tear herself away and failing. He only looked at her, eye to eye, raising blush in her cheeks.

Red was _so_ her color.

Looking at her so intently, Adrien felt like an elated idiot. He picked out the lightest freckles on her cheeks, thinking _Marinette’s_ ; the way her nose scrunched in concentration, yeah, Marinette; the comfortable and _familiar_ pitch and curl of her voice as she talked, god, how did he ever _not_ know Ladybug and Marinette were one and the same? How did he never realize that his Lady _sat behind him_ in class? And how lucky was he that Marinette was his friend, even without being Ladybug and Chat Noir-- how _unbelievably_ lucky?

Now that he thought about it, maybe he’d used all his good luck on that, and that’s why his Chat Noir bad luck was so good at being terrible.

Then, he had another thought. A monkey-wrench thought. A terrible, awful, requiring-self-contemplation thought.

_Did he like Marinette?_

She was one of his closest friends, and he admired her in so many ways, but did he _like_ her? He liked Ladybug-- a lot-- that much was true; he hadn’t thought about Marinette past a wonderful friendship because he’d been so preoccupied with her superhero alter ego. Now he knew, and it only confirmed that he didn’t know anything.

Confidence, check. Marinette was nothing if not steadfast and proud, and Ladybug brought out an extra punch of _I Got This_. Dedication, check. Marinette never backed down once she’d committed to something, and Ladybug, well, you aren’t a superhero unless you’re dedicated to your cause. Compassion, check. Marinette always helped where she could, and Ladybug, again a _superhero_ , it just came with the job description.

(Maybe they had issues with Chloe, but everyone had issues with Chloe.)

Long lashes swept over the bright blues staring at him, and he remembered: whoever the girl under the mask was, he loved her.

A direct quote from himself. That settled that.

“Ladybug,” he started, the name almost feeling wrong.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wh--” She yanked away from him and dropped right off the rooftop, landing lightly on the street below to the delight of the people passing beneath them. She disappeared into a little bakery across the street for a long minute.

“Back,” she chimed, hopping up on the other side of him, startling him so badly he nearly fell off the edge. “Oh, sorry.”

“What was that for?”

“Pen, napkin, phone number.” She thrust a white square with golden scrollwork on one corner, black ink bleeding on the other at his face. He gingerly accepted it from her, holding it like it was a delicately thin piece of glass and the slightest sound might shatter it. “For emergencies. Are you listening? _Emergencies._ Not cat puns.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. He stared, stunned, at the writing (again, so familiar-- wasn’t this on something else he had? A card? And the napkin’s insignia looked familiar too). “Got it. No fun allowed.”

“That’s not what I said,” she muttered, folding her arms. “Whatever. Maybe _one_ cat pun. If you really need to.”

“I’ll make it a good one,” he grinned up at her, taking note of the bright red flush on her face. “A really, really good one, so you can’t even be mad about it.”

“What _ever_ , Chat.” But she smiled, he saw it. “It’s a peaceful night, so I’m going home and getting some sleep. You should get some rest too, if your useless crusade to find an actually funny cat pun doesn’t keep you up all night.”

“You’ll see.” He clutched the napkin to his chest and smiled, smiled, smiled. His cheeks were starting to hurt. She laughed-- for real-- and waved as she threw out her yoyo and swung, dropping down on the other side of the buildings and out of sight. He sat for another moment, reveling in the evening, rubbing his thumb against the napkin just to make sure it was still real, then slipped down the tiles and into a shadowed alleyway to detransform. It would make getting home a hassle, but he’d rather walk than wait another second to get her number in his phone. Plagg slumped tiredly into his shirt pocket, mumbling about cheese, already snoozing the second he hit the fabric.

Contacts, add new, put in the number, add a photo (from his collection of Ladybug candids). Compose a text.

> _i’d ask fur your num-purr, but the cat already caught it._

Backspace backspace backspace.

> _paw-don me my lady, but you gotta help meow-t! i’ve fallen for the purrtiest superhero in town!_

What was he doing.

> _having mew fur a purr-tner is claw-some <3_

Overkill.

> _con-cat-ulations, you’ve got mail!_

It would have to do. He hit send and sighed, a grin flickering around the edges of his mouth a moment later as the screen ticked over from sent to seen.

A harsh bang spooked him. He glanced around, looking for the source, eyes zeroing in on the open, upstairs window of a bakery across the street-- which he suddenly recognized with a painful jolt in his stomach.

The very shrill scream of _“ADRIEN?”_ that followed made him think that Marinette may have already had his number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at [majjale.tumblr.com](majjale.tumblr.com) or hit up my commissions [here](http://majjale.tumblr.com/post/159238907388/majjale-majjale-im-starting-my-first-semester) !!

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [majjale.tumblr.com](majjale.tumblr.com) or hit up my commissions [here](http://majjale.tumblr.com/post/159238907388/majjale-majjale-im-starting-my-first-semester) !!


End file.
